


twenty-nine new drafts of vows that didn't rhyme (thirty was a drum line!)

by eversall



Series: a slice of something like heaven [5]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Background Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Teeny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10062245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eversall/pseuds/eversall
Summary: “You better not have mugged me!” Simon accuses, bursting through the door like a madman. Raphael adjusts his tie and regards his fiancé placidly.“Presumably that made more sense in your head.” He says, confident in the knowledge that it probably doesn't..Raphael and Simon get married. It's romantic, sickeningly sweet, and terribly cliche, but Raphael cherishes every moment of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> YO YO YO WE'RE ALMOST AT THE END OF THIS SERIES. i have about two or three more works planned before we get to where I've been aiming for all along!!! and y'all will finally get sick of all this fluff lmao.  
> okay so a few things:  
> 1) this fic contains references to an interfaith, same-sex marriage. now i am neither jewish nor catholic. my very limited knowledge of jewish and catholic weddings comes from my friends. there's not too much specifics mentioned in the fic, but if i got anything wrong or have written something offensive, please let me know!!  
> 2) i know this series has been almost pure fluff, or at least majority fluff. after this fic, that's probably going to change. just a warning! it'll be more of a toss up between angst and fluff. i can of course always promise that the ending to every fic will be undeniably happy.  
> 3) before you get on my case about how raphael and simon go about their vows, it's loosely based off of what my cousin and her now-husband did. it was cute, yo. 
> 
>  
> 
> title taken from i love you like a table from the waitress musical.

“You better not have mugged me!” Simon accuses, bursting through the door like a madman. Raphael adjusts his tie and regards his fiancé placidly.

“Presumably that made more sense in your head.” He says, confident in the knowledge that it probably doesn't.

“My mug, my _favorite_ red one that Izzy made in her pottery class – “

“That’s not a mug, Simon, that’s a vaguely bowl-shaped mass of fired clay.” Raphael insists, rolling his eyes. “Get dressed, we have a date to get to.”

“My _mug_.” Simon wails, dashing into their bedroom and stripping off his shirt as he goes. He continues to shout through the door. “I talked to Jace who talked to Alec who talked to Magnus who said – “

“Oh yes,” Raphael yells back to Simon, “that sounds like a reliable chain of communication.”

“ – who _said_ that you were talking aggressively about throwing it out!” Simon finishes, running out of the room with his shirt buttoned up incorrectly. Raphael sighs and motions him forward.

“Grab your brown coat, the one with the upturned collar, alright?” He mutters as he unbuttons Simon’s shirt and starts buttoning it up again. “Roll up your sleeves to just below your elbow. You look good.”

“And they say that romance is dead.” Simon says, grinning at him. Raphael rolls his eyes, but feels a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth anyway. “I notice you’re still avoiding the question of the mug.”

“I was just doing some spring cleaning today, for God’s sake. I didn’t throw it out, no matter how badly I _wanted_ to.” Raphael says, smoothing his hands over Simon’s shoulders.

“It’s not even spring.” Simon replies, before disappearing into their bedroom again to grab his coat. “Well, it’s good to know I haven’t been mugged by you, at least.”

“That’s really not how you say that.” Raphael throws his hands up, moving to put on his shoes. “You’re impossible.”

“Mug thief. Mug stealing. Illegal mug acquisition – “ Simon says thoughtfully. Raphael sighs, and Simon grins. “I’m gonna keep going until you kiss me.”

“Pathetic.” Raphael tells him, even as he sways forward and drags Simon into a kiss.

.

“How do you feel about lilac?” Magnus asks, appearing in Raphael’s office.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Raphael asks, absently thumbing through a report from the board of directors. It’s a particularly passive-aggressive report; someone on the board is clearly very upset with someone else on the board. Not for the first time, he wishes that running a legal policy firm wasn’t so much like running a fucking _daycare_. “I don’t have particularly strong feelings about lilac. It’s an acceptable color.”

“ _Acceptable_.” Magnus snorts, dropping down into a chair. “You can’t get married in colors that are only _acceptable_.”

“What?” Raphael asks, looking up properly. “Is that what you’re here for?”

“When you and Simon hired me to be your wedding consultant – “

“We didn’t.”

“ – and I hired Clary as artistic director – “

“ _Director_?”

“ – I didn’t expect this much _attitude_ from someone who really only has to show up and say some nice things about Simon.” Magnus finishes, arching an eyebrow. Raphael leans back in his seat and smirks.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. Saying nice things about Simon is the _hardest_ part.” He retorts, fiddling with his engagement ring.

“I’m sure you thought you sounded much more frightening in your head.” Magnus snorts. “Really, Raphael, have you even _thought_ about your wedding?”

“Yes.” Raphael sighs. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

“And?” Magnus prompts. Raphael squints at him. He doesn’t think there’s much more to say on the subject.

“And nothing.” Raphael finally says. “I’ve got work to do, Magnus, and I’m sure you do too.” Magnus continues to stare at him, his gaze curious and too sharp for Raphael’s comfort.

“You’re scared.” The other man finally says, nodding to himself. “I can’t believe it, but you are.”

“I am _not_.” Raphael argues. “That’s preposterous.” Magnus doesn’t say anything, but his kind silence is a lot more damning than anything he could possibly say. Raphael seriously considers calling for his assistant and faking a work emergency to get out of this. He’s eyeing the distance between his hand and his phone, trying to figure out if he can make it without Magnus suspecting anything, when Magnus sighs and stands up.

“Let’s go to lunch, Raphael. I promise I won’t bring up the wedding again.” He says, and Raphael squints at him suspiciously before he gets up, looking forward to lunch with his friend despite himself.

“I want Italian.” Raphael announces impetuously, and Magnus laughs.

.

“Have you thought about flowers?” Jace asks from the kitchen, stealing all the cookies that Simon baked yesterday. Raphael frowns.

“Why are you in my house _again_?” he asks incredulously, finishing an email to Lily. _If you ask out Stan tomorrow, I may or may not give you half of the winnings I’ll get from winning the office betting pool. Also, get last week’s analysis on my desk by tomorrow afternoon_ he writes, pleased with himself for coming up with a surefire way to win the bet.

“Because we’re _best friends_.” Jace simpers.

“Traitor!” Simon shouts from where he’s hunched over the dining table, staring hard at the chess game that’s currently in progress between the two of them. “I called best friend dibs first. Also, what’s all this about flowers?”

“If you want nice flowers, you need to let Meliorn know at least a few months in advance so he can prepare.” Jace says mildly, walking back to the table. “Simon, put my bishop back on the board, you thief.”

“Why is Meliorn giving us flowers?” Simon asks, scowling as he reaches into his pocket for the bishop he’d swiped from the board. Raphael hides his snicker behind his hand.

“For your wedding?” Jace asks, looking between the two of them. Simon glances at Raphael for a second, panic filling his eyes.

“Yes. That.” Raphael says feebly.

“Burritos!” Simon yells, standing up suddenly. “Want burritos? I want burritos. Let’s go get burritos, Jace. I’ll bring one back for you Raphael? Yeah?”

“Yes.” Raphael says hurriedly. “Enjoy yourselves.” Jace looks bewildered as Simon herds him out the door.

Good to know he’s not the only one, then.

.

“I do so _loathe_ any talk about emotions,” Ragnor announces, dropping into the seat across from Raphael at the coffee shop, “but I’ll make an exception this once.”

“You’re a nosy old busybody, that’s what you are.” Raphael grumbles.

“Call me old one more time and I’ll stab you in the eye with a fork.” Ragnor threatens. Raphael smirks, taking a pointed sip of his coffee.

“You make it too easy.” Raphael shakes his head. “What’s all this, then? You want to talk about your emotions?”

“ _Your_ emotions, my friend.” Ragnor scoffs, taking a sip of his tea. “By the way, this tea is garbage.”

“I’m sure it is.” Raphael says placatingly. Ragnor calls _every_ tea he comes across as garbage; Raphael’s beginning to suspect that Ragnor doesn’t even _like_ tea, he just drinks it to complain. “What’s wrong with my emotions?”

“The wedding?” Ragnor asks. “Ring any bells? The one that everyone says neither you nor your fiancé seem willing to talk about?”

“Everyone?” Raphael asks, bewildered. “How do you know what _Simon_ is saying?”

“News travels fast, my dear.” Ragnor says dismissively, nicely evading the fact that Magnus probably blabbed. “Now I have to say, I’m not the one most equipped to deal out advice – “

“Couldn’t have guessed that.” Raphael deadpans.

“ – but you _must_ stop worrying so much about it.” Ragnor soldiers on, ignoring Raphael’s decidedly bad attitude about the whole thing. Raphael looks down at his coffee and sighs, wondering if it would be appropriate to spill it to get out of this conversation. “I don’t see the problem here. You love him, and he loves you, and the two of you _want_ to marry each other.”

“It’s not that simple.” Raphael mutters morosely. Ragnor snorts.

“It _is_.” He says, not unkindly. Raphael’s throat burns at the idea that everyone seems more emotionally equipped to handle this than him. “Talk to Simon, Raphael. You’re overthinking this by quite a bit.”

.

“So I think I’m gonna go with Clary.” Simon is saying that night as they drop off to sleep. “Because God knows she’s _amazing_ at art, but ask that girl what the difference between an electric and a handheld whisk is and she _doesn’t know_. Despite the difference being in the name. I swear – “

“I’m scared.” Raphael says into Simon’s skin, his voice pitched low. He’s curled into Simon, his head pillowed on the other man’s chest, and he can’t see Simon’s face but he imagines that it’s stuck in that comical expression where he hasn’t yet processed whatever Raphael’s just said.

“Of Clary?” Simon asks finally, bewildered.

“Of our wedding.” Raphael replies, and he feels Simon’s arm tighten around him. There’s silence for a while, or as silent as New York City gets at night, anyway. Raphael listens to the screech of a cat, and thinks about life, in general.

“I am too.” Simon finally says, his voice cracking. “It’s…suddenly so big, and there are so many _things_ – we’ve been engaged for four months and even though there’s four more until the wedding it feels like that’s _all_ people can ask me, and…” Raphael sighs and props himself up.

“All I wanted to do was – was _love_ you.” He say slowly, his heart breaking at the way Simon is looking up at him. “And…maybe show the world, but mostly – just commit that to you and to God. That you’re it for me.” Simon lets out a breathless laugh, his eyes liquid and warm, even in the dark.

“Yeah.” He breathes out. “That’s all I wanted too. The rest of it is frightening.”

“But not the way I love you.” Raphael says firmly, leaning down to brush his nose against Simon’s. Simon laughs, delighted.

“No.” Simon agrees, his hand warm as he rubs circles in Raphael’s back. “Never that.”

.

“I,” Clary says, accosting him in Central Park, “have a solution for you.”

“ _What the fuck_.” Raphael splutters, yanking out his headphones and skidding to a stop. “How did you find me – on my morning _run_ , for God’s sake?”

“Simon told me you’d be here.” Clary says, apparently unconcerned. Raphael looks up to the heavens and prays for strength, his heart racing.

“Fine.” He grumbles. “Only because you’re Simon’s best friend, I am going to listen to whatever convoluted thing you’ve come up with now.” He leads her over to a bench, absently wiping away the sweat that’s begun to collect on his forehead.

“I love when people think _Simon’s_ the weird one.” Clary starts, tilting her head. “I feel like it makes people really underestimate where he gets his ideas from, you know?”

“Get to the point.” Raphael says, staring at her in disbelief. “It’s eight in the morning.”

“Me.” She says placidly. “He gets a lot of ideas from _me_.”

“Is this supposed to mean something to me?” Raphael wonders.

“Just showing you that I understand him almost as well as you do.” She soothes. Raphael nods slowly. That he can accept. “So believe me when I say that what Simon wants is what his parents had.”

“What his parents had?” Raphael asks, surprised.

“You know.” Clary leans back, a small smile on her face. “True love, yeah, but also the kind of love where only the two people involved in it really understand at all.”

Raphael is struck dumb for a moment. He _knows_ how much Simon loved his late father, how much he had loved his mother and father _together_. It’s the sort of fairy-tale romance that had shaped Simon into a hopeless, awkward, and yet enchantingly sweet romantic.

“Oh.” He says, finally, and Clary nods, a melancholy smile on her face.

“Oh.” She echoes. “He’ll never say it, so I felt like I had to say it to you, but…he’s afraid of not being the man for you that can do that.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Isn’t it?” Clary agrees. “That doesn’t stop him, though.”

“No.” Raphael says thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose it does.”

.

“Alright.” Raphael says imperiously, sweeping into Magnus and Alec’s apartment. “I’ve figured it out.”

“Good for you!” Magnus coos, stepping aside to let him in. Alec looks up briefly from where he’s shoveling cereal into his mouth, nodding in acknowledgement. “What, exactly, have you figured out that couldn’t wait until a more reasonable time? Like, say, not the morning?”

“The wedding.” Raphael says, giving Magnus a meaningful look. The tiredness in Magnus’ eyes immediately flees, replaced by an alarmingly excited glint. Alec starts laughing in the background.

“Now you’ve set him off.” Alec says, pointing his cereal spoon at Magnus. “Mags, calm down. I don’t think Raphael is here to say what you think he’s going to say.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Magnus asks. Alec shrugs.

“Unless Raphael switched personalities overnight, I doubt he’s going to announce to you that he wants a lavish party.”

“Hmm.” Magnus turns back to Raphael, who’s been watching the exchange with a morbid curiosity. “That’s true. So. What can I do for you, my friend?”

“I need.” Raphael begins, before the words get stuck in his throat. “Hgnh.” He garbles out, instead of managing to say anything.

“Milk?” Alec asks blandly, holding the entire jug out to Raphael, who eyes it distastefully. He’s never quite sure if this is the way the eldest Lightwood makes jokes or if he’s actually serious.

“Put that jug away, Alexander.” Magnus says mildly. “Poor Raphael’s in no mood to appreciate your sense of humor.”

“No one ever is.” Alec says mournfully.

“I do, sweetheart.”

“You _do_.” Alec appraises Magnus, a soft look flitting across his face. Magnus looks pleased with himself, before he turns back to Raphael.

“See?” Magnus asks. “It’s not that hard to say I do.”

“No.” Raphael agrees, even as Alec groans. “It’s not that part that’s hard. It’s the…look, will you help me or not?”

“You have a plan?” Alec asks, seemingly interested despite himself. Raphael smiles faintly.

“I do.”

.

“A romantic weekend? Sign me _up_.” Simon screeches when Raphael tells him.

“I didn’t say it was going to be romantic.” Raphael says, frowning. Simon lightly slaps his shoulder.

“You said weekend in Vermont.” He points out. “Are you telling me it’s _not_ going to be romantic?”

“Well.” Raphael starts, and then stops. Simon’s laughter washes over him, and he smiles despite himself. “I’m trying.”

“And I love it already!” Simon enthuses. “What should I pack? Oh! What are we going to _do_ – ?”

“Let me help you.” Raphael says quickly, moving to their closet and shoving racks of clothes aside. “It’s a surprise, and you already dress poorly for things that you _expect_.” Simon laughs and throws himself onto their bed, stretching out luxuriously.

“I’m offended.” He says lazily. “Really, I am. You sure you don’t want any help?”

“Pack your toiletries.” Raphael instructs. “You’re driving, by the way.”

“You bossing me around, the romantic part of the weekend is already starting!”

“I can _hear_ you rolling your eyes, Simon.”

.

“I feel very Little House on the Prairie right now.” Simon says, spinning in a slow circle in the log cabin they’re in for the weekend. “How did you get this place?”

“It’s Magnus’.” Raphael says, dropping the last of their bags and leaning against the wall. “You feel like you’re in the prairie? We’re in a _forest_ , for God’s sake, Simon.”

“The _cabin_ , you dickhead.” Simon scowls, peering out the window. “It’s so pretty outside. Too pretty. How the hell did you think of doing this? It’s so _romantic_.”

“Why are you _angry_ about that?” Raphael wonders, smiling despite himself. Simon turns and stalks towards Raphael.

“Because you’re amazing, _ugh_.” Simon bemoans, before grabbing Raphael’s collar and kissing him, hard and messy. Raphael groans and kisses back for a while before he pulls himself back, gasping for breath and placing a hand on Simon’s chest.

“No, none of that. I have an actual plan for what’s happening.” He says sternly, and Simon grins and brushes a thumb over Raphael’s nose.

“Alright, captain. What are we doing?”

Raphael doesn’t answer, and instead untangles himself from Simon and walks into the bedroom. There’s a note on the table in Magnus’ handwriting – _Good luck! Send pics_ – and he raises an eyebrow at the scribbled doodle of what he assumes is supposed to be him and Simon tying the knot, but instead looks like two birds getting killed.

Hanging on the door to the bathroom is two suits, perfectly pressed and tailored. Raphael exhales, brushing a hand over the plastic covering.

“Raphael?” Simon asks, his voice quiet and slow. “Why are there two suits here?”

“I.” Raphael begins, and then he closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, and then turns around. Simon’s standing in the doorway, his face curious and hopeful. The crushing worry of the past few months melts away as Raphael’s resolve strengthens. “I want us to get married.”

“Get _married_?” Simon voice goes an entire octave higher, and Raphael’s lips twitch, his heart beating faster.

“Not legally.” He says, still regarding Simon from across the room. “There are no officiants, or witnesses, or guests. None of our family or friends are here, but…marriage is a promise. I want to make that promise to you, and it’s – it’s for us. Just for us.”

Simons still looking at him, his eyes shining, and at this point Raphael should feel scared, but he’s not. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life. Entrusting his heart with Simon feels like coming home after an exhausting journey.

“The wedding Magnus is planning – “ Simon begins, and Raphael breathes out a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s still happening. You try stopping Magnus on a warpath.” He says, and Simon cracks a grin at that. “But this is a wedding for us. Nothing to worry about, or stress over, just you and me. What – “ He clears his throat, looking at Simon. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Simon says, taking a step forward, his voice shaky, “that you are the most _perfect_ person alive.”

“That is a…”

“A yes, _God_ , yes, let’s get married.”

.

This is the wedding date they celebrate:

It’s fall in Vermont, the trees bursting with color and the air crisp around them. Simon’s wearing a silvery-gray suit, and he’s ditched his glasses and put on contacts because he ‘wants to see Raphael in HD’. Raphael’s wearing a dark blue suit that Simon can’t stop touching, smoothing his hands over the planes of Raphael’s chest like he can’t get enough. They’re in the back of the cabin, a secluded little area with a covered gazebo that they stand under. Simon puts on music, and they sway slightly. Raphael is giddy with happiness, elated enough that he can’t keep grinning.

“Smiling this much can’t be good for you.” Simon notes. He hasn’t stopped smiling either.

“Shut up.” Raphael mutters.

“Can I make my vows?”

“Do you need to ask?” Raphael says, pressing his lips to Simon’s cheek.

“Loving you is easier than breathing.” Simon says immediately. His eyes are steady where they look at Raphael, strong and solid. “It’s my anchor in this crazy world. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, it’s my _home_. I will never stop loving you, never stop being crazy over you. I can’t – can’t imagine my life without you.”

Raphael swallows. In the background, a voice from the stereo croons _but when we cry, we cry together, like it was meant to be_.

“You never have to.” He says, and Simon laughs breathlessly.

“God forbid.” He presses his forehead against Raphael’s and digs his fingers hard enough into Raphael’s waist to leave bruises. “I – I love you so much. It’s you. Always you.”

“And I love you.” Raphael responds. He thought it would be harder, that he would have to whisper and get the words out past choked back tears, but God – marrying Simon is the easiest thing in the world. Simon is right – it’s easier than breathing. It’s the simplest of things to clutch Simon to his chest and keep his gaze steady, so wrapped up in the other man that the rest of the world fades away and all the dark corners of his mind go quiet.

“ _Do_ you.” Simon murmurs, almost out of habit. Raphael chuckles.

“More than the ocean loves the shore.” He confirms, his voice melodic. Simon’s eyes widen in delight, and Raphael smiles. “More than the rushing river loves to meet the sea, more than the clouds love to caress the peaks of mountaintops, more than the rain loves to soak the pavement, twining through the cracks.”

“I.” Simon says, his voice thick and his eyes suspiciously bright. Raphael smiles again, can’t stop smiling, doesn’t ever _want_ to stop smiling for Simon. “Crap, _Raphael_.”

“You make me dumb enough to recite poetry.” Raphael continues relentlessly, his voice low now. “You make me feel like a giddy schoolboy with a crush, you – you make me believe in myself. I love you Simon, now and always, how could I _not_?”

“And now I’m _crying_ , fuck.” Simon says, and there’s single tear slipping down his cheek. Raphael thumbs it off without looking.

“I thank God every day for you.” Raphael whispers. “My love. You. Always you.”

Simon kisses him then, ducking down to press their lips together. Raphael presses back, keeping the kiss gentle, their breath tangling together.

They’ve got forever to do this, after all.

.

They do _legally_ get married. It’s outside, under a chuppah with a priest and a rabbi, and it’s so beautiful Raphael’s mother cries.

(“You cried too.” Simon points out.

“I did not.” Raphael lies outrageously.)

It almost passes in a blur: Elaine and Rebecca leading Simon to him, beaming, Rebecca making a subtle _I’m watching you gesture_ that has him and his future sister-in-law cracking up; the lilac ribbons fluttering in the wind, Alec and Magnus looking self-satisfied when Raphael admits that it all looks wonderful; Clary and Izzy throwing flower petals all over them for no reason other than _it looked pretty_ , delighting Simon; holding his breath as he slides a band over Simon’s ring finger, it’s twin resting on his own hand; Simon grinning at him and smashing a glass underfoot, the sound of tinkling glass mingling with everyone’s cheering; his siblings dragging Simon into a weird four-person dance that Simon enthusiastically participates in, to Raphael’s horror; Luke making a toast about Simon growing into a man, leaving Simon gripping Raphael’s thigh under the table; the moon shining bright, one last slow dance, wrapping himself around Simon.

And at the end of it all, waking up the next morning to his husband breaking his coffee machine.

(“You have got to be kidding me.” Raphael says, horrified, surveying the smoldering wreckage of his beloved espresso machine. “I didn’t even think it could fall apart like this.”

“…good thing I waited until after the wedding? I’m pretty sure Jace bought us a coffee machine.” Simon offers, his eyes hopeful under Raphael’s glare.

“Thank God for Jace.” Raphael mutters. “Simon, _honestly_ , how does anyone even let you near coffee.”

“I’m very charming.” Simon argues mulishly. Raphael hums, his eyes flicking to the gold band around Simons finger before meeting Simon’s gaze.

“I suppose you are.” He says, smiling faintly. Simon laughs and tugs Raphael into a loose embrace. “Don’t charm anyone else, though. For the sake of everyone’s coffee.”)

 

**Author's Note:**

> come prompt me on [ tumblr ](http://eversall.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> the one little song lyric i threw in the fic is from growing old on bleecker street by ajr, which is appropriate because new york. also ajr is the best.


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